


you weaseled your way into my heart (and ferreted out my feelings)

by akamine_chan



Category: Avenged Sevenfold, Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Animal Transformation, Curses, M/M, Pining, Russian Translation Available, Tour Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 13:05:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You gotta watch out for those bands with umlauts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you weaseled your way into my heart (and ferreted out my feelings)

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Ande and Luce for helpful beta work, and to Shine and Argentumlupine for cheering. Extra special thanks to @calliope for the band name, and to everyone on Twitter who helped with other possibilities and inspiration.
> 
> See the end notes for spoilery notes.
> 
> [Translated](https://ficbook.net/readfic/3352885) into Русский by [wannarexic](https://ficbook.net/authors/996119).

It started with the shrieking.

Mikey dropped his phone and catapulted off the couch, careening toward the back studio, calling Gerard's name. He found Gerard on the floor, flopping and twitching, choking on sounds that reminded him weirdly of snorting giggles. Mikey's heart raced; he'd never seen Gerard like this before, not even when Gerard had been at his worst. Gee was having seizures or flashbacks or _something_ and Mikey dropped to his knees and tried to figure out what was happening.

"Gee, Gerard, Gerard! What the fuck is wrong?" Mikey wondered if he should call 9-1-1. He cupped the back of Gerard's head and tried to keep him from banging it too hard on the floor; his eyes were rolled back and his eyelids were fluttering. Mikey started to seriously panic as he tried to remember what you were supposed to do when someone was having a seizure.

"Fuck fuck fuck," he muttered as Gerard's squawks rose in volume. Mikey pressed down against Gerard's shoulder, and recoiled as he felt _something_ squirm away under his hand. "Oh, fuck!" he shouted. Gerard had parasites of some kind, big motherfucking ones like they'd always seen in bad sci-fi movies. He watched as Gerard's flesh rippled and his legs started kicking out randomly.

"Aaaaaah!" Gerard screeched and Mikey echoed him, backing away as the alien parasite made its way into Gerard's lower body. He hoped that there wouldn't be a lot of blood, and that Ray would come to the rescue soon. Ray would know how to handle parasites.

"Fuck," Gerard yelled, and with a final thrash, a fuzzy head popped out of the bottom of Gerard's pant leg, followed by a furry, snakey body, which scurried up onto Gerard's chest. "Fuck," Gerard panted.

"You're such a fucking asshole, Frank," Mikey shouted at the ferret. "I thought Gerard had fucking _parasites_!"

The ferret chittered at him.

Gerard flopped back and tried to catch his breath. "Parasites? What the fuck, Mikey?"

"Alien parasites," Mikey mumbled, shrugging. "Seemed more likely than a seizure or demon possession."

"You watched _Aliens_ , last night, didn't you?" Giggling, Gerard pushed Frank off his chest. "That's the most ridiculous thing ever."

"No," Mikey said, getting to his feet and rubbing at Frank's belly with his socked toes. "What's ridiculous is the fact that one of our guitarists turns into a ferret for three days every month."

"True," Gerard agreed, and scooped Frank off the floor to cuddle him. "Could be worse."

"Not sure how."

Gerard found some ferret treats and was making Frank do tricks. Gee could get him to roll over, play dead and shake paws. "He could be a ferret all the time."

"Well, then we'd just get ourselves a new guitarist," he said, and ignored Frank's angry vocalizations.

“Aw, don't listen to him, Frankie," Gerard cooed. "You can sneak into his clothes and tickle him next time."

Frank squeaked in agreement.

* * *

_Six months earlier_

"Are you sure, Gerard? Really sure?" Brian didn't step closer and sniff at him, but Gerard could tell it was a near thing. "Because that sounds like something that you'd say when you were drunk."

Gerard couldn't blame him, really. It totally sounded _insane_. "Brian, I swear it's the truth. One minute I was kicking Frank's ass at Mario Kart, the next there was a _poof_ sound and he'd turned into a ferret, his little paws still trying to press the buttons on the controller."

"Uh huh." Brian continued to look dubiously at the ferret squirming in Gerard's lap.

"I'm going to text Pete," Mikey said. "Something like this probably happened to him before."

"Why would Pete Wentz—" Brian stopped himself, and pinched at the bridge of his nose. "Never mind. Just. Never mind."

Mikey shrugged and the _tap-tap-tap_ sound of his rapid-fire texting faded as he wandered away.

An awkward silence settled between Gerard and Brian, and Frank's happy little ferret noises were loud as Gerard tickled his belly. "If you'd asked me what animal represented Frank, I never would have said ferret, but now—"

"Yeah." Brian nodded, and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Gerard. There was no call for me to assume that—"

"No," Gerard said, waving away the apology. "No, it's understandable. I would have made the same kind of assumptions, in your place." He wouldn't meet Brian's eyes, though. 

It was something talked about at Gerard's meetings, how people were just waiting for you to fall again, because you'd failed them so many times in the past, about how long it really took to regain all the trust you'd lost as an addict. It still hurt, but Gerard would get over it.

"Anyway," Gerard said, gathering Frank in his hands and holding him up to his face, "I'm going to look up ferrets on-line and see what they eat and if they need special care—there's a Wal-Mart in town if we need to pick up any ferret-related items. . ." His voice trailed off as he eyed Frank. Ferrets were a lot like hamsters, only _longer_. Maybe he could buy a ferret-sized cage with tubes and things, like they made for hamsters. That would be super cool, and he was sure that Frank would love playing in it.

Frank twitched his whiskers against Gerard's nose, making him giggle. "Are you hungry, Frankie?" he sing-songed. Frank wriggled happily and chirped at Gerard.

Brian rolled his eyes. "I'll leave you two alone, then," he said. He needed to come up with some contingency plans in case Frank didn't change back into his normal human-self soon. In a way, it was a blessing in disguise that Frank was always getting sick; it made a convenient excuse to keep him hidden away, if necessary.

"Who's the cutest ferret in the world?" Gerard crooned, and Brian made his escape as quickly as possible.

* * *

Gerard created a nest for Frank in an old cardboard box. He lined it with the rattiest band tees he could find, and some of Bob's holey socks, and every night when he went to bed, Frank was curled up in his box. But sometime during the night, Frank would climb into Gee's bunk and snuggle in, and Gee would wake to the sound of little ferret snores in his ear.

He would never admit it out loud to anyone, but Gerard loved to watch Frank sleep in his nest. His little whiskers twitched, and he moved his paws like he was running and playing in his ferret dreams. Sometimes Frank would make the cutest sounds as he curled up into a ball, cheeps and chittering sounds that caused Gerard to grin like an idiot. It was ridiculous and Mikey teased him about it, but he didn't care.

The fourth morning, Gerard woke up gasping for air, because Frank, who was the heaviest motherfucker in the world, was sprawled on top of him. "Urk," he squawked quietly, then more urgently, "Frank, Frankie, Frank!"

"What?" Frank mumbled back.

"You're _you_ again!" Gerard ran his hand down Frank's back and—Gerard's eyes flew open. Oh! Also, completely naked. This was so not good. He wriggled and bucked under Frank, trying to get away before his body totally betrayed him by popping a giant, worst-time-ever boner. "Get off, motherfucker, I can't breathe." He kept his eyes trained on the low ceiling of the bunk, refusing to identify the flashes of inked skin he could see in his periphery. 

"Don't get your panties in a twist," Frank grumbled, struggling to orient himself in the small space. He elbowed Gerard in the side and almost managed to knee Gerard right in the balls before Gee shoved him out of the bunk. "Hey!"

"Put some clothes on, Frank," Ray said mildly as he shuffled past Gerard's bunk.

"Doesn't anyone care that I'm human again?" Frank asked plaintively.

"No," came the chorus of sleepy voices, Mikey and Bob and Ray.

"I hate all of you."

* * *

"How the fuck was I supposed to know they could actually _curse_ me?"

Pete laughed in disbelief. " _Deäth Spirals._ They're a Wiccan death metal band. All their songs are about the Green Man and magic and karmic retribution." Pete shook his head. "Frank, they have a song about turning an ex-girlfriend into a cat because she slept around. Didn't you hear what happened to the bassist from Billy Talent on Warped last year?" When Frank shrugged, Pete repeated, " _Really_ into karmic retribution."

"They have an _umlaut_ in their name," Frank protested. "And I didn't listen to their lyrics; they're terrible, full of bad rhymes."

Mikey snorted at that. "You thought they were poseurs."

" _Umlaut_ ," Frank insisted. "Name one _good_ band with umlauts in their name."

Without hesitation, Mikey said, "Hüsker Dü. _Two_ umlauts."

"Okay, name another." Frank crossed his arms, growing smug as Mikey stayed quiet.

"So, children, today's lesson is that you can't judge a band by their umlauts," Brian intoned heavily. He pulled out his phone and started flipping through the contacts. "Let me see if I can get in touch with someone on their management team."

"Do you think this is permanent?" Gerard asked Pete softly. "Not that I mind Frankie as a ferret; he's a lot of fun to play with. And it's only three days a month. But—" He looked over at Frank, who was busy trying to explain to Brian why umlauts were such a bad idea.

"Dude," Pete said. "You're so in love with him. It's written all over your face. I can almost see the little hearts in your eyes."

"What? No, I don't—"

Pete winked at him conspiratorially, which was just disturbing. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Fuck you," Gerard finally said. He worked hard to keep his feelings for Frank under wraps, and here was Pete fucking Wentz, seeing straight through him. He needed to work harder at that.

* * *

"Oh, man, that's just not right," Zacky Vengeance said. "Dude, you're so fucked."

"Thank you for the not-news flash, asshole," Frank grumbled back.

It hadn't taken long for the news to spread through their network of friends.

"Yeah, well, sorry, bro." Zacky stared at a spot just above Frank's head. "The curse is worked into your aura; you're going to need a professional to get that removed."

"Great," Frank said sourly.

"I don't know why they keep letting Deäth Spirals on tour. They don't get along with most of the bands and they're vindictive fucks. They magicked Syn into a chihuahua and it cost us five hundred bucks and our last bag of Doritos to get him turned back."

"Who turned him back?" Gerard asked curiously.

Zacky waved his hand around. "The guy from Gogol Bordello. He's crazy as fuck, but he throws a good spell."

"Hmmm." Gerard pulled out his phone and called Brian, listening with half an ear as Zacky complained about the difficulties of touring when your guitarist was a chihuahua.

* * *

"What's wrong with him?" Bob asked.

Frank was running around the lounge, bouncing on the couch, jumping off, pouncing on the cushions before bounding away. His long body was arched and the front half kept going one way while the back half tried to go in another, making him spin in weird, drunken circles. He was making a chuckling sound as he hopped and spun and leaped madly.

"Gerard, did you give him coffee?"

"No, he's doing the weasel war dance," Gerard said, holding up the copy of the _Encyclopedia of Ferrets_ that he'd bought during their last stop.

Bob frowned suspiciously. "I thought he was a ferret." Frank twisted and turned his furry body, attacked a throw pillow and chittered when it fell on him, trapping him for a moment before he wriggled free. It was a lot like watching Frank play guitar on stage. As a human, he had a tendency to knock things over, like mic stands and people, and breaking things, sometimes even breaking _people_. Bob constantly bugged Brian for some kind of anti-Frank protection system to be set up around his drums, like an electric fence or something.

In general, Frank caused chaos wherever he went, and it looked like that wasn't limited to when he was a human.

"He _is_ a ferret. That's just what they call this behavior." Gerard paged through the _Encyclopedia_ and started reading aloud. "'The weasel war dance is performed by extremely happy and excited ferrets. It normally consists of a frenzied series of jumps and twirls, and is often accompanied by a chuckling sound known as dooking.'"

"Uh-huh." Bob didn't look particularly impressed as Frank galloped in circles and clumsily bounced off the leg of the coffee table.

"It's like—" Gerard paused to look at Frank, a sappy smile on his face. "It's like ferrets have so much happiness and joy in them they _have_ to dance to discharge all that positive energy, otherwise they'll explode."

"Uh-huh," Bob repeated. "Exploding ferrets." He grimaced.

"Oh! _Zombie_ ferrets!" Gerard exclaimed, scrambling for his sketchbook.

Bob just shook his head and backed carefully away. Frank climbed onto Gerard's shoulder and squeaked at him.

* * *

"How does it feel, when you're a ferret?" 

It was early morning, way earlier than Gerard would normally be awake, but Frank had tried to crush the air out of his lungs again. Once they'd squirmed and settled into something approximating comfortable positions, Gerard found himself too tired to fall right back to sleep.

Frank was still too close, cold nose tucked against Gerard's neck, and disturbingly naked. At least the covers hid any inappropriate bodily reactions, like friendship-ruining boners, that Gerard might have.

"Dunno, it's all kinda fuzzy, afterwards, you know?" He shrugged, and Gerard closed his eyes to keep from watching the way Frank's tattoos shifted. "I mean, a ferret has a teeny, tiny brain, smaller than a walnut; it's hard to have any kind of higher thought processes when I'm all ferrety."

"Does that bother you?"

"No," Frank said, but Gerard knew a yes when he heard it. "But Brian's doing his best to track down Deäth Spirals' tour manager and once he gets in contact, we can get this curse removed." He pressed even closer to Gerard, and Gerard trailed his fingers down to the small of Frank's back.

"You'll probably have to apologize to them," Gerard warned.

Frank sighed loudly. "I was just curious. If they didn't want people messing around with their stuff, they shouldn't have left it just lying around like that."

"Nosy."

"Curious."

"Such a troublemaker, Frankie," Gerard whispered fondly.

"Hmmm." Frank tightened his arm around Gerard's waist. "Everything's loud and bright and big, when I'm a ferret. And I feel really twitchy and distracted, and my mind's racing in circles. It's almost a relief to fall asleep, because then everything just fades away. . ."

Sometimes, it was like Frank just stopped in his tracks and fell asleep in the middle of whatever ferrety thing he was doing, eating or playing with a toy or war dancing. And Frank slept _hard_ , becoming unresponsive to outside stimulus. Ray had picked Frank up once, and Frank had been limp and unmoving, and Ray freaked out, because he'd thought that Frank had died.

Luckily, Gerard had already read about that particular phenomena in the _Encyclopedia_ , so he calmed Ray down and showed him how Frank's chest rose and fell with each breath. Ray had been unnerved and jumpy for the rest of the week, and Gerard made sure that the guys knew about Frank's weirdly deep sleep so they didn't make the same mistake.

"So you don't remember what happens when you're a ferret?"

"Umm, I don't forget, not really. It's just kinda hazy, like an old photo. I have to concentrate really hard to understand what people are saying, have to work at being still and _listening_. I remember everything, but it's almost like it all happened to someone else."

"Hmmm," Gerard said, soothingly. "S'gonna be okay, Frankie. We're gonna fix you back up."

* * *

"Deäth Spirals is touring eastern Europe. And where the fuck are my keys?" Brian patted all of his pockets and started shuffling around the papers on the coffee table. "Some kind of telecommunication workers' strike has made it impossible to get a hold of their fucking tour manager. I keep trying the guy from Gogol Bordello but he's not returning my calls."

"So now what?" Mikey had a garbage bag and was actually collecting some of the trash from around the kitchenette. 

Brian stared at him in astonishment. "What the hell are you doing?"

Mikey's lips were pressed together in a straight line. "Cleaning."

"But _why_?"

"Can't find my phone," he mumbled. 

"I've lost two of my good ink pens," Gerard added helpfully. "And three lighters."

"Well, if you guys wouldn't insist on living in a pig sty—"

"Pigs are normally very clean animals," Bob said. "And which one of you fuckers took my sunglasses?"

"And my wallet?" Ray asked.

"What the fuck? It's like we've got a thief—"

"Oh," Gerard interrupted Brian with a grin. "We do have a thief. Our very own little furry masked bandit."

Ray said, "You mean Frank?"

Gerard nodded. "Yeah, ferrets are notorious thieves. They steal shiny things and take their loot to their hidey-holes and do whatever it is they do with their treasures."

"Hoard it, like a dragon," Mikey said.

"Probably," Gerard agreed.

"He's probably gotten his ferrety paws all over the lenses of my sunglasses." Bob sighed deeply. "Where is his hidey-hole?"

Gerard shrugged. "Dunno. Most ferrets have multiple hiding places."

Ray and Bob groaned.

"Okay, boys, everyone take a room and look for places that Frank might hide in," Brian said, taking charge. "Remember that ferrets favor dark, small spaces, like burrows." 

Frank was busy sleeping in his nest, but they managed to find a couple of his stashes, one in the cabinet under the sink in the bathroom and one behind the pile of DVDs stacked next to the television. It was obvious there were others, because they didn't find all the things that were missing.

"Well, at least we found Brian's keys and Ray's wallet," Gerard said optimistically. 

"My phone," Mikey mourned.

"My fucking sunglasses," Bob growled. "The little shit is going to buy me a new pair."

"I'm sure we'll find them eventually," Ray soothed.

"New pair," Bob insisted.

* * *

"Well, I've got good news and bad news."

Frank and Gerard looked up from comic they were reading together on the couch, curled up close.

"Which do you want first?" Brian asked Frank.

"Good news." 

Gerard didn't blame Frank. With Brian, the bad was always _really_ bad, so it was always a good idea to have something to cushion the blow.

"Well, I've managed to track down the tour manager for Deäth Spirals."

"Awesome!" Frank pumped his fist into the air.

Gerard was cautious. "And the bad?"

"The band has just disappeared into the Australian Outback for a 'cleansing and centering ritual'." Brian made mocking air quotes.

"What the fuck does that even mean?" Frank scowling and crossed his arms over his chest.

Sighing, Gerard pushed the hair out of his face. "It means that we just have to be a little more patient, Frankie."

"I'm tired of being fucking patient," Frank growled, stomping off to the bunks.

"That went well," Brian muttered.

"He's feeling a little frustrated, is all." Gerard shut the comic and tossed it onto the coffee table. "We all are." He got up and squeezed Brian's shoulder before following after Frank.

"Frankie?" Gerard didn't give Frank time to answer, just pushed aside the curtain and climbed in, shoving at Frank until he scooted over. Frank rolled over and faced the wall, and Gerard tucked his chin over his shoulder.

"What?" Frank sounded surly, but Gerard didn't let that deter him. He wrapped his arms around Frank's waist and squeezed as hard as he could.

"It's going to be okay, Frank."

Frank tried to shrug out of Gerard's hold, fingers tracing aimless patterns on the wall. Frank was tense in Gerard's arms, muscles knotted in unhappiness. "I don't like being a ferret," he said, but what Gerard heard was _I don't like not having control_.

"I know," he said softly. And he did know. Frank wore his tough punk persona like a shield against the world, because he didn't want anyone to know how afraid he was sometimes.

"What if—" Frank took a deep breath and rubbed at a mysterious stain on the wall. He was practically vibrating with tension. "What if—this is permanent?"

Gerard rubbed his cheek against the softness of Frank's hair, trying to find the right words. He shrugged. "We'll figure it out. Not gonna leave you behind just because you're a part-time furball."

"Yeah?" Frank asked diffidently.

"Yeah," Gerard echoed. "You're part of the band, part of our family. You belong with us."

Frank let out the breath he'd been holding. "You're such a sap."

"Yeah, I am." Gerard just hugged him tighter, happy to feel Frank relax a little.

* * *

Frank came back to the bus unexpectedly. He and Bob had gone out in search of something to eat and Gerard thought he'd have some time to himself.

Gerard fumbled a little frantically with the box, trying to shove the contents back in before Frank saw.

"S'up?"

"N—nothing." He shut the box, picking at the packing tape, trying to reseal it. He met Frank's eyes, determined not to feel guilty.

Gerard watched as the smile fell off of Frank's face. "Are you—what the fuck are you wearing?"

"Fuck," Gerard moaned. He'd forgotten about the damn tee shirt he'd put on. He clutched the box to his chest and curled into a ball on the couch. 

"What the fuck, Gee?" Frank hissed, moving to tug the box free. Gerard tried to twist away, and he heard the sound of cardboard ripping. Frank was a persistent fucker, poking at Gerard's ribs until he squealed and let go of the box.

With a scowl, Frank dumped out the contents of the box and froze. "What the fuck?" he repeated in surprise. He picked up a tiny black hoodie, the one that had the Misfits logo printed on it.

"I didn't want you to get cold," Gerard mumbled. It had taken some work, but he'd gotten a bunch of ferret-sized hoodies printed up with the logos from some of Frank's favorite bands. He'd had enough connections from years of making and selling their own band merch.

"I have fur, moron."

"But you're Frank," Gerard pointed out reasonably. "You're always cold."

"Mmmmm," Frank said, sorting through the hoodies. He paused at the sight of a bright pink hoodie with the NOFX logo on it. "Rad. But that doesn't explain the shirt you're wearing. Or this." Frank's eyebrow rose as he held up what appeared to be some sort of elastic collar, with a circle of cloth flower petals. "I hope you weren't expecting me to wear this."

"Uh, no. I think they threw that in there as a joke," Gerard said, hoping the blush wasn't visible on his cheeks. "And I mentioned that I was learning that sometimes ferrets required wrangling, so they sent me this shirt." _Ferret Wrangler_ , the shirt proudly proclaimed, with a cute cowboy ferret graphic.

"Uh-huh." He traced the outline of a rhinestone studded skull on another hoodie before looking at Gerard with a shy grin. "Thanks." 

Gerard thought that Frank rather liked the idea of being the world's only punk rock ferret.

* * *

Later, when pictures of a ferret in a flower collar surfaced on the bus, Frank pretended not to notice.

* * *

Mikey found Gerard in the back studio, sketchbook braced against his knees, and Frank draped across his shoulders, whiskers twitching. He lifted Gerard's legs and slid under them, curling into the corner of the couch.

"Are you going to tell him?"

Gerard didn't even look in Mikey's direction. "Tell who what?"

Mikey sighed his 'you-are-a-moron' sigh.

"Also, ixnay on the alkingtay," Gerard said, tilting his head toward Frank.

He threw Gerard an impatient look, leaning forward and picking up Frank's lanky body and cuddling him. Frank chittered softly in annoyance before settling back into sleep in Mikey's lap. "You should tell him."

"Fuck off," Gerard said, without heat. The very idea of confessing how he felt to Frank made his stomach twist and his throat dry up. 

"He's going to figure it out eventually."

"Not if I'm careful."

Mikey rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone. He flipped it open and started tapping away at the keys.

"How can you even send a coherent text when you're missing half the buttons?"

Eyeing Frank balefully, Mikey waved the phone around in a aimless circle. "Frank only chewed off two of the keys. And Pete's pretty good at figuring out what I mean."

"I don't want to know," Gerard said with a wince.

"Then don't ask," Mikey huffed.

Gerard went back to his sketchbook, trying make his doodle of Frank the Vampire Ferret look scary instead of cute. "Maybe some bloodstains," he muttered, adding some shading.

"Gee—" Mikey sighed eventually. "Everyone else _knows_. It's so obvious that even Ray was asking what was going on."

"I don't want to talk about it." Gerard shook his head. "Nothing's going to happen between us anyway; it's just a stupid crush and I'll get over it."

"You've been saying that since you met him, Gee. It's not going away."

"It will. Eventually."

Mikey snorted. "You're such a dork."

"Whatever."

* * *

"Do you like me better as a ferret?"

"Hmmmm?" Gerard rubbed his face against his pillow and yawned. It was early, too early, and this was getting to be bad habit, waking up with Frank pressed up against him, warm and naked. One of these days Frank was going to notice how Gerard's body reacted to his nearness and then—

"Do you like me better when I'm a ferret?" Frank shoved at Gerard's shoulder, trying to get him to roll over.

Gerard turned his head and squinted at Frank in confusion. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Frank crossed his arms over his chest and studied the ceiling intently. "You pay more attention to me when I'm a ferret. You pet me more. You buy me toys and treats."

Gerard opened his mouth, then shut it with a snap, because he'd never expected to be having this conversation. "Are you jealous of your ferret-self?"

"Sounds stupid when you say it like that," Frank mumbled.

"I bought you those vegan donuts the other day, and gave you that copy of the _Evilive_ EP that I found. And we're cuddling right now."

"Yeah, but we're only cuddling because I turned back into a human in your small-ass bunk and you can't say 'no'. That's like, non-consensual cuddles, which totally doesn't count." Frank poked him in the side for emphasis.

"Ow," Gerard said, trying to squirm away. "I totally like you better as a human. You're less likely to bite me and you don't steal my pens." Gerard thought about it for a moment. "Just my lighters."

"Fuck you," Frank said. "I don't steal them, you just forget to take them back." He leaned close and nipped at Gerard's ear, causing him to shiver. "And I can bite you as a human, if you want." 

Gerard hunched his shoulders in an effort to protect his ears from Frank's teeth. "S'okay, I'm fine, thanks," he said with a soft giggle. He paused, chewing at his bottom lip thoughtfully. "I just worry about you more, when you're a ferret." He didn't mention that no one would ever question the affection he lavished on a cute, furry animal. . .

"Aw," Frank cooed, sickeningly sweet. "Does Gee wuv the teeny, weeny ferret?"

"Fuck off," Gerard grumbled. "And get out of my damn bunk so I can go back to sleep."

Frank dropped a loud, smacking kiss on Gerard's cheek. "Okay." He rolled out of the bunk and thumped into the aisle.

There was the rattle of a curtain. "You're naked. Again," Ray whispered, unsurprised. "Clothes, Frank, _please_."

"It's not my fault you're such a prude," Frank replied, and Gerard could hear him digging through his bag for something to wear.

"Shut up shut up shut up," Bob growled.

Gerard slipped back into sleep to the murmur of Frank and Ray's voices, bickering affectionately.

* * *

"You have a boner," Frank observed.

It was amazing how easily those words drove Gerard from mostly asleep to wide-awake and panicking. He lifted his head off of his pillow and stared at Frank, hoping he'd misheard. "What?"

"Everytime I turn around you've got another one. Maybe you should jerk off more, take care of your needs. It can't be healthy for you to walk around sporting wood like that," Frank said thoughtfully.

Gerard could feel his face turning red and he had to wonder if someone had spiked the Diet Coke he'd had last night. Or maybe his brain had finally given up on reality. "What?" It was the only word he seemed to know. 

"You need a hand?" Frank was calm and relaxed as he reached over and gave Gerard's crotch a friendly pat.

The touch galvanized Gerard. He squeaked and scrambled away, wedging himself into the corner of the bunk, trying to make himself as small as possible. "What the fuck, Frank?" His voice was maybe a little higher than normal. At least Frank had clothes on for once, even if it was just a ragged Misfits shirt and pajama bottoms.

Frank crossed his ankles and fluffed Gerard's pillow, the very picture of smugly casual. "Let's talk, Gee."

"Let's not," Gerard said, trying to keep from sounding too defensive. He knew that Frank didn't want to talk about music or comics or horror movies; he wanted to talk about _feelings_ and maybe even _boners_ and Gerard just couldn't deal with that right now. Or ever. He tried to edge around Frank, thinking he could maybe make his escape, but Frank just shifted and blocked him in, clicking his tongue in reproach.

"C'mon, Gee, this is getting ridiculous and we're wasting time that we could be spending doing fun things with your boners. And mine." His grin was guileless. "You know you wanna." He waggled his eyebrows, which just made Gerard's stupid heart skip a beat.

"It's not that simple," Gerard said, frustrated with how flippant Frank was being. This was _important_ ; it could make or break them, damage their friendship beyond repair, destroy the band. His family.

"Gee—"

Gerard had to close his eyes, because Frank's voice was fondly exasperated. The thin bunk mattress shifted, and Gerard could feel the heat of Frank's body near, too near, but he kept his eyes shut tight.

"Gerard," Frank whispered, pressing impossibly close, brushing his lips gently against Gerard's. "C'mon, let me in."

"Can't," Gerard breathed. He swallowed hard. "'M scared I'll fuck things up."

"So what?" Gerard could heard the shrug in Frank's voice. "So you fuck things up. We fight about it, then we apologize, and we keep going forward."

His eyes flew open. "It's not that fucking easy, Frank," Gerard hissed angrily. "There's too much at risk, the band, the music—"

"Our hearts."

Frank was so near, and everything he felt was written on his face. Gerard was amazed that he'd never seen it before. Maybe he hadn't let himself see. "Yeah, that, too."

Frank sighed. "Was that so fucking hard to admit?"

"Fuck, yeah."

"Asshole," Frank muttered. He cupped Gerard's cheek, tracing the line of Gerard's chin with his thumb. "Tell me you love me."

Gerard frowned and blew the bangs out of his face, working up the nerve. "I." He shifted in the small space, before making himself meet Frank's eyes. "I love you, you fucker."

"Even if I'm cursed and turn into a ferret every month?" Frank rubbed at Gerard's bottom lip.

"Yeah, even then," Gerard said, then nipped at Frank's thumb.

"Good," Frank said, and his hand crept back down toward Gerard's dick, rubbing at him through his sweatpants. "You smell so good to me when I'm a ferret, it makes me want to lick you all over—"

"Eeeew," came from Mikey's bunk, followed by the tap-tap-tap of Mikey's texting. "Just wait 'til Pete hears about this."

Bob pounded against the wall of his bunk. "No, no, no making out while on the bus."

"Fuck off," Frank growled, but pulled his hand off Gerard's dick. Gerard made a sad little sound. "Hotel night tomorrow," Frank offered. "Cuddles in the meantime?"

"I suppose." 

"Clothes stay on, hands above the waist," Ray said. "For the sake of our sanity."

"Fuck off," Frank and Gerard said in unison, then broke into helpless laughter.

-fin-

  


**Author's Note:**

> So, I have the worst friends in the world. When I text someone saying "Frank is totally a ferret!" the proper response is NOT "Tell me more." The proper response is to say, "You're crazy, Aka. Seriously cray-cray." And then try to dissuade me from writing a story where Frank gets turned into a part-time ferret. *sigh* WORST FRIENDS EVER. 
> 
> For a great example of the weasel war dance, check out this [vid](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Xowr0vMU_U). It really is too cute.


End file.
